Shadows of Consequence - 5. Chapter 5

Once Rebekah had settled from her ordeal, Sam carried her to the relative warmth of the glowing coals. Nearby, he found a pair of trousers and an overcoat. He hated the idea of dressing her in those grubby clothes—her kidnappers’ attire—but upon presenting them to the child, she gratefully donned them.

While she warmed herself, Sam assessed the living space—if it could even be considered that. The bandits had lived poorly. What belongings he found were shoddy and in need of repair. Digging deeper, his hand bumped against a leather bag. The contents chimed with a familiar ring. Opening it revealed a small fortune in silver, likely what they’d stolen from Reabury. As Sam suspected, they had nowhere to spend it, and were instead stockpiling their gains for the future. Had they not been greedy and run off with their loot months ago, they would’ve been able to enjoy it. Now, they lay dead, and by this point, Graeme had likely dispatched the fourth.

Although Sam had no reason to doubt the knight’s earlier remark—those who live a life of banditry rarely do so by their choosing—what he saw here reinforced that fact clearly. He pondered what past decisions led them down such a wretched path. And if given the chance, what stories could they tell? Were they worthy of redemption? Sam supposed it didn’t matter anymore. Their hubris in failing to treat the knight as a serious threat had been the final mistake in their miserable lives.

The telltale rattling of armour plates drew near. Sam left Rebekah by the campfire and met Graeme outside.

“I found her. She’s safe,” he said.

“Well done. I, however, do not have good news.” The knight shook his head dourly. “The last man escaped my grasp. I lost him in the trees.”

Sam swore under his breath. “We need to find him.”

“He’ll know these lands, perhaps even better than you. Regardless, I feel confident he’ll no longer trouble your village.”

Sam contemplated his words. That remaining bandit—shaken by Graeme’s attack—seemed the wisest of the group by fleeing. If he knew best, he’d keep running.

“If you say so. I trust your judgement. But what about you? Are you all right?” With a direct view of Graeme’s breastplate, he saw no sign of a hole caused by the bandit’s pick. Not even a scratch. He fought against the need to touch it—to confirm what his eyes told him. “That pick should’ve pierced your armour.”

Graeme placed a gauntleted hand over where a gaping hole should’ve been. “I told you this armour is special. The impact will leave a bruise, but I am otherwise fine. Thank you, Squire Sam, for your concern. Now, let us assess the child.”

Sam led him inside. At the sight of the hulking knight, Rebekah scurried away. Graeme held still, not wanting to frighten the child any further.

“It’s okay,” Sam said, rushing to her side. “He’s a friend. His name is Ser Graeme. He’s the one who saved you.”

The girl’s eyes shifted uneasily between Graeme and Sam.

“But you saved me,” she said to Sam.

“I couldn’t have done it without him. He’s a knight. He helps people.”

She didn’t meet the knight’s gaze, but did manage to say, “Oh, uh . . . thank you.”

Graeme performed an exaggerated bow in an attempt to lessen his imposing stature. “It was an honour to rescue you, m’lady.”

This gesture helped lessen her apprehensiveness, and Sam coaxed her back to the warm coals. “We’ll take you home shortly. I just need to speak to Ser Graeme again, okay?”

She nodded timidly.

Sam grabbed the bag of silver coin and approached Graeme to show him. “I found this. And what about the bandit’s horses? We can’t just leave them here.”

“We’ll lead them back with us. Let me deal with that, as well as the bodies. You mind the child. Take her to our mounts. I’ll join you shortly.”

Once Sam returned to Rebekah, she said, “I wanna see my mamma and poppa.”

“Of course. We’re leaving now. You’ll see them soon.” Given the baggy clothes she wore and lack of shoes, he considered what to do. “I’m going to carry you, okay? I don’t want you to hurt your feet.”

He tied up the end of each trouser leg to keep her feet warm, then carried her in one arm with her head against his chest. He gripped the bag of silver in his other hand. Meanwhile, Graeme had dragged and hidden the bodies from the courtyard, but nothing could be done about the blood-spattered flagstones.

“I need you to close your eyes,” Sam said.

“Why?” she asked.

He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t scare her. “Please, do as I ask. I’ll tell you when you can open them again, okay?”

Thankfully, she obeyed. He stepped briskly across the courtyard and reached the ancient bridge. Factoring the age of the Lÿmian ruins, Sam was amazed how well they’d endured the elements.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

Rebekah gazed at the rough contours of the looming mountains while holding onto Sam’s neck. Broken shale made descending the path toward their horses a laborious affair, but there was no reason to hurry now. Once they reached the bottom, Winx neighed softly in greeting. Tusk, tied farther away, eyed them with a huff.

“It’s okay, Tusk,” Sam said in a calm voice. “Ser Graeme will be coming soon.”

Another huff. Sam ignored her, instead placing Rebekah onto the saddle of his own horse.

“I’d like to introduce you to Winx,” he said.

For the first time, a meagre smile appeared on Rebekah’s face as she reached forward to rub the horse’s neck. “Hello, Winx. You’re beautiful.”

While she continued to compliment the horse, he stowed the coins in the saddlebag and pulled out the waterskin.

“You must be thirsty,” he said, popping the stopper.

She drank eagerly, coughing when the water came too rapidly to swallow. Using the flat top of the saddlebag as an improvised table, he opened the bundle of food. Unbeknownst to him, Mum had included a small knife. At the sight of it, Sam couldn’t help but shake his head, knowing he could’ve used it earlier to sever Rebekah’s bonds. He cut a slice of bread and placed some cheese atop it, then handed it to Rebekah.

“Thank you,” she mumbled bashfully.

Watching her eat with delicate little fingers, Sam blinked away a pearling tear. Who could be so depraved as to kidnap a child? And even worse, to treat her so deplorably. He looked upon this child, torn by his earlier thoughts of the bandits. To think he considered—even for a moment—that those men deserved pity. No. They deserved their bloody end. Who could say how many others they’d hurt, and likely killed. Graeme had played the role of arbiter and executioner—rightfully so in Sam’s eyes. The real shame was that those who suffered at their hand would never know of this justice served.

The crunch of stone under hooves echoed from the path. Sam glanced back to find Graeme leading the four horses, tied in a line with a length of rope. They followed passively without complaint.

“Let us abandon this place,” the knight said.

Sam secured the waterskin and food in the saddlebag, then mounted up. There was enough room in the saddle for both him and Rebekah to ride. Graeme led the team of horses from his own mount, with Sam taking up the rear to keep an eye on their surroundings. But there was no need. The ride back to Reabury was uneventful. Wherever the last bandit had retreated to, he never came into view. Perhaps the man would fall victim to the weather. Winter would be upon them soon enough. The nearest town was Eriswell to the north, and walking that distance would take days, if not a week. While there were wayinns along that route, Sam assumed the bandit had escaped with no coin on his person, and threats of violence were unlikely to persuade an innkeeper to offer shelter.

Reflecting upon the events of the past hour, Sam couldn’t deny feeling soured by the experience. That Graeme had forcibly knocked him down bruised his ego more than his backside. And the fight was over mere moments after it had started. He’d told the bandits they didn’t know the extent of his ability. That wasn’t a boast—at least he didn’t think so—but he never got the chance to test his mettle. And once Graeme had fallen, Sam’s confidence had shattered.

In hindsight, his reaction was pathetic. He would’ve made a terrible squire.

By the time they reached the village’s edge, the threatening rain clouds had dispersed, acting more as a portent of a terrible outcome that never came to pass. But no, Sam knew better. The Rothgoraian mountains never failed to bring dramatic weather, and this day was no different. The timing of it was simply happenstance.

As they approached Rebekah’s home, the girl yelled out for her parents. Within moments, Susanna and Russel emerged from inside. Upon catching a glimpse of their daughter, they broke down in tears of joy and ran toward her. Sam lifted Rebekah from the saddle and delivered the excited child into her loving parents’ waiting arms.

Graeme observed the scene—a potent mix of happiness and relief—yet he remained still as stone, as though he were a grand statue upon his mount. With his helmet on, it was impossible to observe his reaction. Was he smiling? Given the emotional reunion before them, Sam certainly was.

The commotion prompted other villagers to gather, including the chief, Mr Newham.

“We owe you both a great debt,” the chief said, and then stepped toward Graeme. “Thank you, Ser Knight, for bringing one of ours back home to safety. My name is Jeremey Newham, the chief of Reabury.”

Graeme dismounted and offered his gauntleted hand to shake. The chief accepted it readily with a wide grin.

“Well met, Mr Newham. You may call me Graeme. It would appear my arrival here was fortuitous, but I wouldn’t have been able to complete the task without my temporary squire, Sam Harkenstone.”

Once again, Sam’s face heated at the given title. A few villagers murmured in surprise to hear this, others gave Sam congratulatory pats on the back. Rebekah approached Graeme with her parents in tow. The fear she’d held toward the knight earlier had evaporated.

“Thank you, Ser Graeme,” she said.

Graeme dropped to a knee. “You’re most welcome, child.”

“Yes, thank you,” Susanna said. “We must repay you, both of you, for your kindness.”

“No,” Graeme said, standing up again. “As I stated earlier, I cannot accept payment to rescue a ransomed child. To do so would make me as contemptible as the bandits who kidnapped her.”

A rumble of disagreement grew from the growing crowd of villagers, but Graeme ignored them as he continued to speak.

“Also, Sam found their ill-gotten gains.” He gestured to Sam to fetch the bag of silver coin from the saddlebag. “Mr Newham, I trust you can distribute it fairly amongst those who were robbed.”

Dumbfounded, the chief accepted the bag Sam proffered. “Yes, of course. But you must allow us to repay you—if not for returning Rebekah, then at least for returning our money.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Graeme said. “I have these four horses, for which I will find a buyer.” Then he pointed at Sam. “Moreover, he found the bag. The payment ought to be his reward.”

Sam raised his hands awkwardly. “No, that’s okay. It belongs to us all, my parents included. That’s good enough for me.”

Mr Newham eyed them both, evidently dissatisfied with their answers, but then shrugged in defeat. “Very well. Your generosity is deeply touching. We’ll accept it gratefully.” Then he took a step closer, his expression growing serious. “And what of the bandits?”

Sam jumped in before the knight could reply. “Ser Graeme defeated three of them single-handedly. The fourth escaped, but we’re pretty sure he won’t bother us again. He was terrified.”

Mr Newham shook his head in disbelief. “Once again, we are in your debt, Ser Knight. You did what an entire platoon of militiamen could not.”

Graeme offered a grateful nod. “It is my honour to serve those in need.”

Raising the bag of coin into the air, the chief addressed the crowd. “Please share the news of Rebekah’s safe return, the recovery of our money, and that the bandits have been driven from our land. And of course, tell them it’s thanks to the bravery of Ser Graeme and our very own Sam.”

The crowd cheered, and then dispersed excitedly to enlighten their neighbours and friends, leaving Graeme and Sam with Rebekah and her parents.

“Would you like to come in for some tea?” Susanna asked.

Knowing Graeme would refuse to remove his helmet, Sam decided to intervene to save the knight from having to explain himself. “We should head back, right? Get these horses stabled.”

Graeme gave Sam a nod—either because he agreed or to silently thank him, perhaps both. He then turned to Susanna.

“Thank you for the offer, but we must decline. Sam is correct.”

Susanna and Russel accepted his reply favourably. It was just as well. They likely wanted to check on Rebekah, which was more important. They gave their thanks again to Graeme and Sam, then withdrew back into their home.

As Sam mounted Winx, he glanced over to the knight. “It feels good, helping someone like that. It’s the first time I’ve ever had the opportunity.”

“As I said, I couldn’t have done it without you. You were a fine squire.”

Sam hid his doubts from the knight. There was no denying he’d been a liability during the confrontation. Had he not been present, Graeme wouldn’t have been distracted. Consequently, he also would have avoided being struck by that terrifying pick. Sam could only thank the magick armour. Without it, Graeme would’ve been killed. Despite the knight’s compliments, Sam sensed his reluctance to trust him in a fight, but had no idea how to prove himself worthy.